Hope. Another small string of characters that play with my emotions on a daily basis. I rely so heavily on this word and its definition, yet at the same time, I would prefer not to give its meaning any time or day. There is a reason I have a love and hate relationship with this word. It is one of those words that can make you feel elated and excited. It can give you something to hold onto when there seems to be nothing to grasp. Then on the flip side, it allows your mind to wander into a dangerous territory, into the unknown, and to give homage to Gene Wilder, "in [to] a world of pure imagination."
Hope is something I prefer to keep in my back pocket because I am more grounded without it. There are those rare situations where my guard is mysteriously let down and I let hope sneak up on me. I really dislike when that happens because when the situation unfolds in a manner that wasn't part of my dream of hope, well, it is safe to say it takes some time for things to get back to normal (and yes, definitely ice cream).
I predicted the results of Sonzee's EEG. She has done enough of them (18 to be exact) for me to qualify myself as an accurate EEG result predictor. I am by no means saying I could translate the actual EEG itself, but I can give a fairly accurate description of how the reading will be interpreted.
On Monday I shared my predictions, "I am pretty positive the reading will be "typical Sonzee", with her usual spike waves here and there, but nothing too shocking for a child with a CDKL5 mutation. What I did not really say in my post were the words on the soundtrack that was playing in my head.
I did not share that there was a part of me that hoped and almost believed the reading would be "typical". I had dreamt in my mind that her epileptologist would write to me and say, "Randi, this is her best EEG ever. There is no seizure activity and her background is normal". Along with the monologue in my mind, I envisioned Sonzee sitting, alone, unsupported. I pictured Sonzee's picture watermarked with not only "sonyasstory", but also as an advertisement of how a medical cannabis product had completely changed her EEG. Do not get me wrong, the RSHO is helping her cognitive capabilities (we think?), but nothing has performed the miracles I had hoped.
So now, I am sitting here thinking about hope. Aggravated with the word even more because it is a necessary evil in order for me to travel along this journey, I would not be able to survive without it. Yet I am so drained from repeatedly having my hopes blow up in front of my face like a latex balloon (if you are unaware of my fear and hatred of latex balloons, consider this the moment where I let you in on my secret). While I am so incredibly thankful, that Sonzee's hypsarrhythmia is NOT back. I am definitely saddened and disheartened that her EEG was not what I dreamed it to be...I guess that is just par for this course.
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